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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28854873">The Law and Promises, Not Hearts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrainlessGenius/pseuds/BrainlessGenius'>BrainlessGenius</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Angst, Assault, Blood, Crimes &amp; Criminals, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Angst, Gunshot Wounds, Homicide, Hurt Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Transphobia, Kissing, M/M, Making Love, Mugging, One Shot, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Prompt Fill, Swearing, Trans Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Trans Male Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, but not explicitly described, problematic relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:48:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,309</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28854873</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrainlessGenius/pseuds/BrainlessGenius</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A hurt suspect on the run finds himself in Virgil's home. To their luck, Virgil just happens to be a paramedic more than willing to tend to his wound. They stay the night over but is gone the next morning, only for Virgil to encounter him again during one fateful night. It's a bad habit of Virgil's-- getting attached to his passing patients like this, no less to a potentially dangerous man, but for some reason he can't help but get drawn to him. No matter the consequences.</p><p>A fill for the prompt "Trans and/or chubby character; Dukexiety breaking the law"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Law and Promises, Not Hearts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><b>Warning/s:</b> Blood, major character injury, wounds, assault, homicide, mature language (swearing), scars, sharp object, attempted mugging, implied/referenced transphobia, kissing, sexual jokes, heavily implied love-making (nothing is described explicitly). Please <i>please</i> inform me if I left anything out.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Virgil wakes up to the sound of his door being opened.</p><p>He’s almost sure he’s checked to see if it’s been locked more than twice, which means someone probably picked it open. Immediately the nervousness in his chest gets the gears in his head to start ticking. He jolts up in bed and flickers open his lamp, quickly looking for anything he can potentially use as a weapon. Desperate, his eyes land on a long umbrella and he settles for that.</p><p>He takes note of how he’s shaking as he quietly slips out of his room and into the dark hallway. His years of practice as a paramedic have honed his skill in hiding any and all uncertainty and fear in his body when tending to a patient, but this seems like an entirely different situation.</p><p>It’s hard to avoid creaking as he traverses the stairs down, but he still manages. A dozen scenarios whiz through his head as his breath continues to keep pace. Halfway through the stairwell, Virgil freezes.</p><p>He hears breathing. Heavy breathing. The pattern is a familiar one. It’s broken, shuddering, and hitching every now and then. It stops and chases itself, revolving around sharp inhales and excruciatingly slow exhales. </p><p>Half of Virgil begs him to run back upstairs and hope for the best while the other dares him to continue his journey and check. Somehow the latter half wins, and he cautiously completes the rest of the trip down. It’s hard to see anything with the lights still off, but every step takes him closer and closer to the source of the sound. The umbrella in his hand wavers as a result of the slight trembling of his body as he holds a defensive stance in the dark dining area just a few feet from the living room.</p><p>If this turns out to be his final moments, then so be it. He takes in the stuttery sounds from near the door, swallows, then speaks.</p><p>“Who’s there?” </p><p>The uneven breathing stops immediately, the air around them suddenly growing silent. There’s no reply. Virgil quietly inches towards the light switch for the dining area.</p><p>“I’m asking again. Who’s there?”</p><p>Silence. The absence of both light and sound send the gears in Virgil’s head into overdrive, worst case scenarios running free in his head.</p><p>He feels for the switch and flips it.</p><p>The illumination is not perfect. The light is for the dining area, after all, and the sound was coming from the living room. Yet the scene is still clear enough. There, a few feet away from Virgil is a human being seated awkwardly on the floor, back to the wall and a stain high up their jacket by their right shoulder. Their wide eyes have dark circles around it and their messy undercut falls to their face. A bulky duffel bag sits in close proximity. Virgil eyes both warily.</p><p>There’s a single beat of tense silence as Virgil points the umbrella at them, a bit like a doofus honestly, and then the person snaps.</p><p>Their hands swiftly raise up into the air, form shaking and breaths uneasy as they stare at Virgil. “Don’t hurt me, please. I-I swear I’m not here to hurt you or steal anything, please--”</p><p>Virgil flits between the person and the unlocked but now closed door. “You picked my fucking lock--”</p><p>“I know, I know but I swear I just need a couple of minutes then I’ll leave, please--” they wince and inhale sharply through their teeth. “-- just until they’re gone completely, I beg you, please.”</p><p>Virgil approaches slowly, umbrella still pointing accusingly at them.</p><p>A closer look confirms that the stain is blood dripping out of a conspicuous rip in the person’s garment. Their raised, shaking hands are stained red too, presumably from clamping the wound shut.</p><p>He lowers the umbrella by a fraction, still unsure of the entire matter. “Just until <em> who’s </em> gone completel--”</p><p>
  <em> KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK </em>
</p><p>They both jump at the startling knocks banging on the door. Virgil feels his heart about to beat out of his chest as he thinks of who it might be. He drops down to a low, sneering whisper. “Don’t tell me it’s the fucking cops--”</p><p>The person nods frantically, left hand coming down to once again clutch at the bleeding wound. </p><p>“Shit!” His thoughts start running a mile a minute as the booming knocks continue to haunt them. Finally Virgil disregards any and all semblance of sane judgement and drops the umbrella, moving to crouch down by his unexpected guest.</p><p>The person genuinely seems surprised as Virgil loops their left arm around his shoulder, his right arm coming to wrap around their waist. “This might hurt, sorry. Up on three. One, two--”</p><p>He stands them both up in one swift motion. The person groans in pain as their features scrunch up before they clamp their mouth tight. They breathe heavily through their nose as Virgil quickly guides them to the bathroom, seating his injured visitor on the toilet seat. </p><p>He tosses them a towelette and instructs them to press it against the wound before closing the restroom door. Virgil musses up his hair on the way back to his front door and rubs his eyes, taking a quick glance at the clock before finally opening up to the police. He only hopes that he’s a better actor than he knows himself to be.</p><p>He opens to see two men in uniform. A shorter, stockier one in glasses stands behind and beside a taller, leaner one with a few burns littering the half of his face. Virgil half-feigns annoyance. “I’ll have you know that it is almost two in the damned morning--”</p><p>“We apologize, sir.” The taller one takes down his hat, eyes darting around through Virgil’s very narrowly opened door. “We were in pursuit of a suspect. Theft and assault. We saw him turn this street then disappeared. We have grounds to assume that he may have illegally entered one of the houses to hide.”</p><p>Virgil scoffs. “So what, you’re just going to search my house at this ungodly hour? Right after you interrupt the only decent sleep I’ve had in days?”</p><p>This time, Specs behind him talks. “Again, sir, we apologize for the inconvenience. But we only want to make sure that the culprit is indeed not in your home. He can potentially endanger you--”</p><p>“Do you have a warrant?”</p><p>They look at each other. “Sir--”</p><p>“Do you have. A fucking. Warrant?” </p><p>The taller one huffs in frustration and puts the hat back on. “No. We only have a few routine questions, then. Did you or did you not see or hear someone enter your house--”</p><p>“I was asleep. I heard nothing. I saw nothing. No one is in my house except for me and no, I couldn’t possibly know where the fuck your suspect could have gone.” He gives them a tight smile and waits ‘till the two finally start to back away from his front porch, taking a few more glances through Virgil’s narrowly opened door. </p><p>“Thank you for your cooperation, sir. Don’t hesitate to report any suspicious activity, hmm?”</p><p>The officer takes one last look at Virgil, tips his hat, and leaves. Virgil rushes to grab his medic kit once the door closes shut, running to the bathroom with everything he might need.</p><p>He opens the door to the suspect prodding at their wound, fingers all but digging into the fabric of their jacket as they stare at it in interest. “What the hell are you doing?” The person jolts up, hissing through their teeth as they accidentally jostle their wound. </p><p>“Uhm, trying to see what a gunshot wound looks like?” they reply, staring woozily as Virgil crouches down beside them.</p><p>He tries not to show too much surprise on his face when he takes in the ‘gunshot’ part of the sentence. He notices how there’s no other opening and curses to himself. He’ll have to take the bullet out. Virgil begins to rummage through his kit, pulling out gauze, antiseptics, scissors, forceps, cotton, medical tape, bandages, soutures, and everything else he may require. “I said keep the cloth on your wound, not poke at it. Jesus--” </p><p>“I mean, it’s not everyday that you get to see shit like this. Aren’t you curious, Mister…?”</p><p>“Virge. And no, I’m not curious. Not anymore at least. It’s what happens when you do this for a living. Now, help me take off your jacket--”</p><p>“Oohh. You move fast, doctor. Aren’t ‘ya gonna buy me dinner first?” The person cheekily grins, shuffling the left sleeve off their good arm before slowly and painfully stretching out their right arm to Virgil.</p><p>“Just minutes ago you were about to piss your pants in absolute fear and now you’re about to break the record for being the chattiest fucking person I’ve tended to.” He slowly takes the jacket off, pausing every time they hiss. “And no, I’m not a doctor. Just a paramedic.”</p><p>The garment is thrown on the floor, and both individuals gaze at the red-stained, dark green shirt, both wincing at the span of the blood track. </p><p>“Woah--”</p><p>“You’re not supposed to be fascinated by this. You’re bleeding. Do you have a name at least?” They visibly freeze up at the question but their features are quickly smoothed out. “Just call me Ree for now, I guess.”</p><p>Virgil grabs the pair of scissors. “Fine. Pronouns?” He wipes the tool clean with wet, sterile wipes, waiting for an answer. </p><p>Ree blinks. “What?”</p><p>Virgil looks right back. “I’m asking for the pronouns you want me to refer to you with.” Ree only continues to stare wordlessly; the first second of silence he’s had since he entered the bathroom. “What? Never been asked that before?”</p><p>They scratch their head with their good hand. “Not usually, no. But uhm, I think I get along fine using ‘he’ and ‘they’--”</p><p>“Cool. You attached to this particular shirt?”</p><p>“Huh?” Ree dumbfoundedly looks at Virgil who’s holding up the pair of scissors in his hand, clacking them together as he tries to get his point across. Ree’s eyes widen in comprehension. </p><p>“Not gonna lie, didn’t think you for the kinky type--”</p><p>Virgil rolls his eyes, mumbling a short strain of curses as he takes a step closer to them. “See how there’s bits of fabric clinging to the inside of the wound?” Ree looks down, nodding after he takes a good look. “Yeah, well, that shit’s going to hurt bad if we just take off your shirt. So I’m gonna cut it, okay?”</p><p>Ree’s face blanches at that, and a bit of fear creeps up on Virgil. Possibilities ranging from blood loss to a low BP and cardiac arrest get pushed to the forefront of his mind, and he tries to hide the quickening of his pulse.</p><p>“You-- you’re going to take off my shirt?”</p><p>Ah. Discomfort. At least it isn’t the worst scenario, but he still knows well enough to keep an eye out. “I understand if you’re uncomfortable but I can’t tend to it if it stays on. Plus, the bullet might still be in there and I’m just going to go ahead and assume that you wouldn’t want to be sent to the hospital with a fresh criminal record, huh?”</p><p>They sigh and wince. “Are you even allowed to do that?”</p><p>“Take the bullet out?” Ree nods. “It’ll be better if a doctor does it so if you want me to send you there then I’ll be very happy to--”</p><p>“No! No.” Ree takes another good look at the wound before reluctantly agreeing, speaking again with his slightly nasal, high-pitched voice. “Okay, fine.” The shit-eating grin comes back, but somehow it still feels off. “Do with me as you wish, master.”</p><p>Virgil groans in annoyance as he begins gently cutting the fabric around it. “Kinky fucker. You’re supposed to be in pain.”</p><p>“Well if that tickles your fancy then oh <em> yes </em> I’m in dire pain. Oh, ah, it hurts!--”</p><p>“<em> God, </em>shut up!”</p><p>Ree giggles unconvincingly as more of the fabric gets cut off. Once Virgil gets close to the wound he hisses, eyes squeezing shut as the clinging cloth slowly gets removed. As the shirt completely comes off, he gets even paler, and only then does Virgil realize why.</p><p>Sure, blood loss is definitely a contributor. But something tells Virgil that the binder obviously wrapping around Ree’s chest has something to do with it as well. From the way Ree suddenly avoids his gaze and goes silent, Virge senses how it’s a sensitive topic. So despite the conspicuous redness surrounding the edges of the binder, he doesn’t say a word. Not for now, at least.</p><p>No words are exchanged between them as Virgil carefully plucks the bullet out with forceps, save for a few groans, hisses, and gasps from Ree. At some point Virgil allows him to grasp his arm, hoping it might help ease the pain; an offer they scoff at. His refusal is short-lived as just seconds after, their good arm shoots out to tightly grip Virgil’s soft shoulder, teeth gritting as the last fragment finally comes loose.</p><p>Virgil works fast after that to clean it up, stitch it, and bandage it. Despite the silence, Ree’s slightly morbid fascination for the procedure still shines through as they intently stare at the entire stitching process through varying expressions of pain. He has to admit, he already misses the slightly chaotic noise and banter. And he’s just met this person for no more than an hour.</p><p>“Are you sure you aren’t really a doctor?” Ree finally asks once the bandage is secured on the injury, arm put in a makeshift sling out of his jacket to prevent excessive movement.</p><p>“I should be asking <em> you </em> that. I was starting to wonder whether the moans while I was stitching you up were from pain or something else--”</p><p>“Hey! That’s my schtick! I’m proud of you for thinking of that one.” Ree yawns as Virgil packs up the last of his supplies. </p><p>“Yeah, figured you’d be tired. Stay here while I go get you something to wear. Can’t promise a good fit though. If you can’t tell yet, I’m a few sizes larger.”</p><p>Ree shrugs, immediately regretting the action as pain shoots up their arm. “Ah, but that’s the best kind. Oversized and comfy as hell.”</p><p>They laugh softly and Virgil leaves, taking note of the slightly nervous look in Ree’s eyes and the way the grin drops almost instantly. He comes back with a loose cotton shirt and another jacket to a once again silent Ree. Virgil takes the hint of the atmosphere and shuts up as well as he begins to help them into the clothing. Ree stops him.</p><p>“You aren’t gonna say anything about it?”</p><p>Virgil raises an eyebrow though he has an inkling of what he might be referring to. “About what?”</p><p>Ree looks down on themself, eyes silently referring to his binded chest. Virgil allows his features to grow soft, suddenly overcome with an urge to find out what kind of people would be that awful to make such a small thing into such a big issue for someone who is only trying to live their goddamned life.</p><p>“Couldn’t care less. Honestly, what I do care about is how long you’ve probably been in it. I know enough shit to figure out that the redness should be a warning.”</p><p>Ree looks to the side in half shame. “Right.”</p><p>Virgil clears his throat, looking at the freshly treated wound and the tightness of the garment. “Do you… do you want me to help--”</p><p>“You don’t-- well, uhm… maybe? Yea. If it’s not much trouble.”</p><p>“I just took out a bullet from your shoulder, dude. I think we can manage this one.”</p><p>There’s something unexplainable that crosses Ree’s face for a bit, as if this is the first taste of kindness they’ve had in a while. The expression gets Virgil feeling for this individual, and he forgets that he’s literally talking to a potential criminal, if just for a few seconds. Virgil stands behind him the whole time, eventually finishing the task after a couple minutes of struggle. The breath of relief from Ree is hard to deny. Soon the shirt goes on and the jacket is slung around their shoulders without putting it through the arms.</p><p>To Virgil’s absolute fucking unsurprise, Ree makes a beeline for the front door the second they’re out of the bathroom. His good hand quickly snatches his duffel bag from the living room floor and slings it over his shoulder, fingers already on the door.</p><p>“That soon?” Virgil stands near his couch trying to hide the worry in his eyes and voice. It’s a bad habit of his, getting attached too quickly to patients. Relaxing and comforting them through conversation often becomes part of his job description, resulting in him warming up to patients in the span of just a few minutes. Patients who will sometimes forget to give their thanks or blur out the event out of shock. Patients who probably won’t even remember his name or even his face. </p><p>Ree is probably one of them.</p><p>“Thanks a lot, Virge, but I have to get going. Hope you don’t mind but your clothes are mine now. You have good taste. Not the first thing I’ve stolen, anyway--”</p><p>“And if they’re still out there looking for you?” He doesn’t know if he’s potentially dangerous or if they’re even capable of far worse crimes, but the fear he feels for this person right now is too present, too real.</p><p>The hand on the doorknob wavers. “I escaped once and I can do it again--”</p><p>“Hard to escape with a healing wound on your shoulder--”</p><p>Ree turns around to face him. “You realize that technically you’ll be breaking the law too if you keep me in here, right? Not to mention you never know if I’ll skin you in your sleep while I walk away with your cash--”</p><p>“Small price to pay. Usual risks that come with my job. Besides,” he points to the bandaged wound, “that’s gonna take a while to heal. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay?” He knows he’s playing a dangerous game here, and the adrenaline is uncomfortably coursing through Virgil’s veins. Yet the calling in him to help blares loudly in his head. One day this same instinct is going to be the death of him.</p><p>Ree looks at him dumbfoundedly. “How the fuck are you not scared of me? You just heard Officer snake-face and his nerd sidekick tell you I’m being chased down for theft and assault--”</p><p>“I’m a paramedic, not a judge. Who the hell am I to criticize what you did and will do? All I know is that you’re hurt, tired, and probably thirsty too--” </p><p>Ree squints at him, slowly lowering the bag and wincing from pain still undoubtedly present. They shake his head with a smirk. “You’re a dead man walking, Virge.”</p><p>Virgil shrugs and arranges the few pillows on the couch, an unspoken invitation. “So does that mean you’re staying?”</p><p>By the door, Ree gawks. He takes a minute to think about the whole ordeal, looking at his bad shoulder first then back at Virge. “You have water?”</p><p>Virgil snickers and nods, going to the kitchen to fetch them one. He returns to Ree seated on the couch, yawning and rubbing at his eyes. They gratefully accept the glass and drink. He leans back and sighs, relishing in what looks like the first taste of comfort they’ve had in so long.</p><p>“See now, that doesn’t look like the face of someone who would choke me in my sleep.”</p><p>Ree opens one eye, the sly grin back on his face before Virge can think of what he just said. “If you wanted me to you should have just said so--”</p><p>“No, I-- okay I fell right into that one.”</p><p>Ree falls into a quick chortle, careful not to disturb their shoulder any more than he already has. Slowly the grin dies down, replaced by an air of seriousness that infected Virgil with it. “What happens after tonight?”</p><p>Virgil stifles a yawn and begins to walk towards his stairwell. “Well,” he starts, hand already gripping the railing, “that’s completely up to you.” He quickly climbs up and nabs a spare blanket and another pillow, tossing them to Ree from halfway through the steps. “See you later, I guess?”</p><p>Ree’s face crumples a bit in discomfort as they move to lie down, finding a position he can deal with. “Or not.” They settle into their makeshift bed, eyes slipping shut in no time.</p><p>Virgil feels his heart drop at the statement, but he wills the feeling away and reminds himself that Ree is merely another patient, a temporary arrangement. A potentially dangerous one at that. He clambers back into bed, reliving the entire night in his head. Fear wraps around his throat, but he finds that this sensation is not born out of the nature of Ree’s “profession,” nor of the unassurance of his own safety for the entirety of his stay.</p><p>He finds that he dreads waking up to find an empty sofa. And <em> that, </em>that illogical dread for someone he’s just met, is what scares him the most.</p><p>He wakes to find an empty house and a note saying <em> “Thanks, hoe - Remus ;P”. </em> He locks the name in his mind and processes the conflicting feelings in his chest. Since then, Ree, along with the events of the previous night become nothing but a memory.</p><p>~~~</p><p>For the record, Virgil can’t remember how he got into this kerfuffle. </p><p>He’s standing in a dark alleyway at a late hour, just off from his shift, with two tall men in ski masks holding a knife against his throat. They’re shouting at him to hand over everything he has. The order is simple and he gets it. It’s not hard to comprehend. But the panic rising in him is pushing ice into his veins, freezing up his hands, feet, tongue, and almost every part of him in his place.</p><p>He screams internally at himself to move, to defend himself somehow, to avoid the blade flush against his neck or to give up his phone and his cash. Yet suddenly it becomes harder to breathe, his thoughts meld into incoherence, and his body refuses to do anything.</p><p>As they threaten to press the knife deeper, Virgil thinks this must be it. Well, it’s been a good run. He almost doesn’t feel how the pressure on his throat leaves, leaving only a slight sting in its wake. In his panicked state, everything rapidly occurs in front of him in a blur. There’s the sound of something landing hard on someone’s skull, the not entirely clear visual of someone repeatedly hitting someone’s back, the feel of bodies hitting the floor, the slightest hint of red somewhere, and the sudden, cold feel of someone’s hand on his own.</p><p>“Snap out of it Virge! That won’t hold them long, come on! Breathe!” His focus readjusts quickly, the sudden adrenaline working its temporary magic, and there they were, dangerously close to Virgil’s face. </p><p>Remus. </p><p>Just inches from their feet lie the same two men from earlier, unconscious, bleeding, and barely breathing.</p><p>He has no time to completely digest what just occurred as Ree swiftly pulls him out of the alleyway by his hand. They run. One may think that the duffel bag Remus still has should slow them down, but it looks like he’s used to running like this. Virgil runs out of breath fast, but Remus valiantly tugs on his hand every now and then, adamant on letting Virgil keep up.</p><p>“We’re not far from your place, are we?”</p><p>“N-no. Turn left here--”</p><p>“Yeah, I remember, dumbass!”</p><p>Remus pulls him as they turn the corner. From the corner of Virgil’s eye he sees at least one of the two men stagger out of the alleyway, making their way towards them.</p><p>“One of them’s awake, Ree--”</p><p>“Shit!” He spots another corner and they lead Virgil to run there. “You don’t mind a bit of a detour, do ya?” they pant out, taking only a millisecond to catch his breath before they’re off again.</p><p>“As long as we still get there I don’t give a shit, Remus--”</p><p>“Oh hey, you remembered the note!”</p><p>“Ree, now is <em> not </em>a good time!”</p><p>“Oh, right.”</p><p>Virgil loses track of all the corners they cut through, his mind focused on the burning of his shorter legs, the shortness of breath, and the surreality of him being pulled through the dark city by none other than Remus himself.</p><p>Virgil almost collapses at some point but Remus pulls him up to his feet again, slaps him hard across the cheek, yells at him to breathe, and drags him away once more. Eventually they arrive at his front porch where Virgil almost drops on the spot. Remus takes the initiative to fish out the keys from Virgil’s pocket, unlocks the door, and practically boots Virgil inside, locking the door behind them.</p><p>At last, Virgil allows himself to fall to the floor. He pants and gasps, leaning himself up against a wall as he catches his breath. He winces at how badly his hands are shaking and does his best to calm himself down.</p><p>A glass of water appears in front of him and Remus’ face pops up not far. “Well fuck, you ain’t looking so hot, Virge.”</p><p>He takes the drink and almost chokes on it. He rubs his palms over his face after, breaths heaving as he rides out his exhaustion-laced attack. “I... I just… I need a--” he hicks and gasps, “--I just need a minute.”</p><p>Remus rubs a hand up and down his arm, obviously unaware of what they should do. “Hey. It’s all gucci now. Did you see what I did? They couldn’t have possibly caught up, not with a blasted head like that--”</p><p>The panic’s wave threatens to rise again. “A <em> what--?! </em>”</p><p>“Okay, maybe I exaggerated but they did get hit pretty bad and it’s impossible that they caught up to us. We were like Quicksilver or Flash or something back there. It was pretty fucking awesome.”</p><p>Virgil reminds himself to follow the breathing techniques he uses on the patients and does a few rounds of it. He tries to recall the recent events. “I saw one guy still stand but the other one--”</p><p>Remus’s grip tightens on his arm and Virgil’s gaze catches on the red splattered on Ree’s sleeve. “Don’t worry about it, okay? For now, I just need you to breathe. That’s it. Keep going, Virge.” </p><p>He doesn’t count how long it takes before he fully calms down. When he does, Remus is still there in front of him, the same familiar grin taking up space on their face. Nothing much has changed about him. Virgil won’t admit how much he missed them.</p><p>“Hey, you’re back! I thought I was going to have to breathe air into you through some other way.”</p><p>Virgil breathlessly snorts at the comment, playing off a blush as a feverish spell. “No need. Thanks by the way. I might be dead right now if you hadn’t found me.” </p><p>Remus blows figurative smoke at him, dismissing his gratitude. “That’s just me paying you back for what you did months ago.” They move to rub at his neck. “Sorry for just leaving. But also kinda not sorry.”</p><p>Virgil glances at Ree’s right shoulder. “Valid. Can’t really blame you for that one. I did say it was up to you. How’s the shoulder?”</p><p>Remus beams, shrugging off a shirt sleeve to reveal the scar the night left on him. “All better! Your snarky-ass comments did wonders, Virge--”</p><p>“Virgil. It’s Virgil.” Will he regret giving his name to this felon? Maybe. But they did also just save Virgil’s life, and he is too out of it to be thinking of consequences and wise decisions.</p><p>“Lovely name. Except that it sounds too much like Virgin and I have a hard time believing that you are--”</p><p>“That is classified information and it’s staying classified.”</p><p>Remus fakes disappointment. “Damn. Was hoping that would get me to score. Oh well.” Ree stands up swiftly, eyes darting around as he leaves Virgil to remain seated on the floor. “You don’t redecorate much, huh?” </p><p>Virgil shoots him a quick smile in response. He takes note of how Ree’s hair has grown out a bit longer, their previous undercut now less obvious. For a second Virgil thinks Remus is sporting facial hair above their lip, but he realizes that the markings are of a pen, and he chuckles lightly to himself. There are a few faded scars around his face and neck area too. Virgil feels like he’ll see more under Ree’s clothes, but he tries not to think about their whereabouts for these past few months.</p><p>“I see you still have my jacket.” </p><p>Remus swiftly turns and brings his gaze to where Virgil is pointing, teeth gleaming as he clutches the garment. </p><p>“Oh yeah! I’m still not giving it back, though. Too comfortable and soft to give it up.” Ree flops himself down on the couch, relishing in the feel of its softness against his tired, tan skin. “You don’t mind, do you?”</p><p>Virgil stands up as well, thinking of anything half-decent at least he could whip up for them. He’s sure they were both pretty starved by now. “The couch, no. Make yourself at home.” He finds some leftover Chinese food in the fridge and heats it up. “The jacket, though…” Virgil takes a few seconds to just drink the image of Remus in. They look tired and worn-out, and the almost two-sizes larger fit of his jacket on Ree doesn’t help it.</p><p>“Well, you already got blood on it so I don’t think I’d want it back, anyway--”</p><p>“Sweet!”</p><p>The leftovers aren’t the best thing, but it makes for a good conversation starter. The whole ordeal feels… normal. As if Remus was always here and this was just him coming back from work. As if they were two childhood friends talking over Chinese takeout. Except no, nothing about this was normal. He’s not even sure of what Remus has managed to do in their lifetime, what he can still do, their background, his record, if they’re at risk right now, if he has any dubious intention.</p><p>But somehow being here in front of Ree, laughing and talking about unfortunate first aid mishaps and the riskiest places to sleep in as they criticize the food, dissolves any uncertainty in Virgil. That fact should terrify him, surely, but it doesn’t.</p><p>Virgil offers up his living room again, for old times’ sake. The chilly autumn breeze blows past outside, and the inviting promise of warmth and comfort tempts Remus. He accepts and Virgil expects no less than a repeat of the last time he left Ree to spend the night.</p><p>The next morning, as Virgil scrambles downstairs to rush to his shift, he’s met with an empty living room, a delicious smelling kitchen, and the same cheeky grin looking at him. There’s a plate of eggs in their hand, accompanied by another joke Virgil throws disgust at.</p><p>Remus stayed. Virgil doesn’t know what to think of it, but he knows there’s a warm burst of something in his chest despite the faint stop signs lodging themselves in his brain.</p><p>They stay again that night, the night after that, and for the uncountable nights that proceed. A routine forms between the two and unspoken arrangements come forth. Remus keeps himself busy in the safety of Virge’s locked doors and Virgil comes home to a companion. He even dares to say a friend. </p><p>“You sure you don’t want me to leave yet?” Ree asks almost every time they share a dinner. Virgil always finds himself answering “Still completely up to you, but your stay is more than welcome” before he has time to think of any repercussions. Virgil likes to convince himself that the setup is purely one-sided; that this is just Remus taking advantage of the security of his home, the shelter from the slowly approaching winter. </p><p>They don’t talk about how there’s always a look of worry on both their faces when Virgil leaves, and a sigh of relief once they see the other’s presence. They don’t talk about how they physically grow closer the more the winter draws near, and how conversations run smoother, more familiar. </p><p>They don’t talk about the weekends and day-offs the two spend cooped up at home, arms around each other and stomachs hurting from laughter. They don’t say a word when Remus falls asleep with their head in Virgil’s lap nor when Ree holds his hand to warm them from the cold. They don’t talk about how the freezing bite of the winter cold finds Remus in Virgil’s room, sharing the same bed and grappling for warmth.</p><p>They don’t talk about the day Remus tells Virgil his story; of how they were kicked out of his home the minute his father figured out they were trans and how he had to learn how to fend for himself and survive on the streets with absolutely nothing. Even if survival meant bending the law a bit from time to time. They don’t mention a thing when Remus cries into his arms that day, shaking and vulnerable for Virgil to see.</p><p>No one speaks about the lingering looks, wider smiles, and undeniable tension between them as the weeks drag on. No one speaks about how technically Remus is a criminal and Virgil is hiding him, keeping them away from the clutches of justice and the eyes of the law. No one dares to. </p><p>~~~</p><p>Winter is just about almost over when Virgil sees Remus’s face on the news at the waiting area of where he works. His round face loses all its color as he hears them being suspected for a crime that happened way back in autumn. For the assault of a man and the murder of his companion. He almost throws up when he realizes it’s the same two men that mugged Virgil then; the same two men Remus had saved him from.</p><p>One of them died. He’s sure (not really) that Remus never would have wanted a death. He thinks of how the report is probably faulty and that the charges should at least be homicide and not murder. He remembers Ree’s face back there at home and he thinks of how this man could never have been capable of such an act.</p><p>But they are, and they did.</p><p>He unlocks the door to their home shaking and pale, eyes frantically darting around to make sure no one’s keeping watch to see if Virge was indeed alone in his abode. The slamming when he shuts the door is completely unintentional.</p><p>“Ree, I have to tell you something--”</p><p>“I already know.” </p><p>Sure enough, Remus is tuned in on the small television, watching with a blank expression as his face gets plastered on TV. Remus turns it off, fingers moving to fiddle with their coat’s buttons, pulling it tighter around themself. </p><p>Virgil begins to frantically pace around the room. “I’m going to be honest, Ree. I don’t know what the hell to do about this--”</p><p>“This isn’t gonna work out anymore, Virge.”</p><p>Virgil pauses right in front of Remus, staring at him as if they’ve just lost their mind. “What the hell do you mean--”</p><p>Remus swiftly stands up, voice raising. “They tried to mug you, Virgil. They saw your face and one of them is still alive. The prick can easily describe what you look like and it’s not like your address is a fucking hidden cabin in the woods.” Remus pauses, breathing heavily as his fingers run through his now lengthy hair. “They have my face and my name, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re roped into this shit show--”</p><p>“But you didn’t murder the guy! You weren’t even supposed to be there! Hell, I can vouch for you in court! They were threatening me and you only acted out of defense--”</p><p>“Oh, and knowing how shitty the system is do you really think they’re going to believe a gay homeless bastard with a criminal record who probably won’t even be given a fucking decent lawyer?!” Remus quickly darts around the room, picking up bits and pieces of the very few belongings he has, trudging upstairs with heavy steps after. </p><p>Virgil follows suit. “So what, you’re just gonna leave just like that?”</p><p>Remus finds the duffel bag from a corner in the bedroom, shoving the few clothes they have in it. “What else is there to do, Virgil? It was a mistake staying here. I’ve overstayed my welcome, I’m putting you in danger, and it’s about time this fuckery stopped.”</p><p>Virgil shuts the bedroom door behind him. “What about everything about the past few months--”</p><p>Remus sneers. “And what about it? What about us? We don’t even have a name for whatever this problematic arrangement is! We avoided the topic like it was the fucking Bubonic plague!” Remus stomps closer, towering over Virgil. “You’re a paramedic martyr who’s hung up on helping broken people and I’m a danger to society who didn’t even bat an eye when I watched the news tonight--”</p><p>“And do you think I give a shit about that--?”</p><p>“Of course I do! Do you see yourself right now, Virge? You’re shaking! You’re terrified!” They stop to stare at Virgil’s trembling form. Ree sighs and looks away for a bit, gaze returning to Virgil once he calms down by a fraction. “Don’t make this any harder than it already is, Virge. Just tell me to leave. You’re supposed to be pushing me out the door, telling me how terrified you are of me, how I’m a dangerous man, how you never want to see my face again--”</p><p>“But that’s not what I want, Remus! I want you to sta--”</p><p>“No.” Remus cuts him off, something unexplainable filling up in his eyes. “Don’t say it. I don’t want to hear you say it. I can’t leave if you say it--”</p><p>“Why the hell not--?!”</p><p>Remus kisses him. It’s too sudden, rough, messy, and not at all what first kisses are supposed to be like. Virgil’s eyes open wider as he registers their chapped lips against his own, before Ree pulls away with a faint look of horror on their face.</p><p>“I… I’m sorry. Shit, I didn’t mean to, it’s just--” </p><p>Any words that were supposed to push past Remus’s tongue die down on Virgil’s lips as he pulls Ree down to kiss him again. This time it’s slower, more desperate and overwhelming. All denied emotions between them finally stumble out, falling into that one kiss; a simple action saying everything that needs to be said for them. He pulls away after a few seconds, both their pupils blown to eat up the color in their eyes. </p><p>Remus’s forehead is still pressed against Virgil’s with panting breaths when Virgil speaks through slightly teary eyes. “I love you. I don’t know what to do with it but I love you like hell, Ree.”</p><p>Remus nods where they stand, noses touching and denying the single tear that falls from his eye. Ree gently crashes their lips together again, whispering his own declaration of love in between linked fingers and chasing breaths. The cold night escalates. Tender kisses evolve into roaming hands, clenching fingers, interlocked bodies, mingling breaths, and sounds of passion heating the room.</p><p>For a while, they forget. They forget about the threats waiting for them at the other side, the police hunting Remus down, the ticking clock looming over them, the scales of Lady Justice begging to pull them apart, and the packed bag lying haphazardly on the floor. For a while they pretend and feel like there’s nothing else but the two of them in each other’s arms; just the two of them against the rest of the world.</p><p>They’re silent after, when the high finally dies down and their sentiments towards each other have been declared clear as night. Remus’s head lays on Virgil’s larger frame, Virge’s bare chest and Ree’s binded one snuggled tight under a thick blanket. </p><p>It’s Virgil who first cuts through the icy wordlessness of the night. “You’re right.”</p><p>Remus pulls the blanket higher up. “About what?”</p><p>“That I’m scared. Terrified out of my goddamn mind.” A few audible breaths come out visibly as the hours grow colder. “But I still want to fight through it, Ree. Call me a cheesy lil’ shit, but I rather be uncertain and scared with you than safe without.”</p><p>“Virgil--”</p><p>“I’ll run with you, if that’s what it takes. We can trudge through this hell-hole together--”</p><p>Remus gazes up at him, “That’s unfair to you, Virge--”</p><p>Virgil looks down at Remus. “The world was never fair.” They both stare at their hands in each other’s, completely lost and confused but still present. “Promise me you’ll stay. Please.”</p><p>Remus’s arm around Virgil’s torso squeezes tighter. Virgil pretends not to notice and squeezes his hand tighter in reply. The silence before their answer is torturous, but eventually it rings out. “I promise.”</p><p>Relief washes over Virgil, leaving behind only a single thread of fear. But he swallows down the knot and chooses to trust Remus. They fall asleep holding on tight to each other, minds swimming in uttered promises and confessions, both unsure of what tomorrow holds.</p><p>Virgil wakes up the next morning to an empty bed, his shirt and jacket folded neatly on the side table, sheets that still smell of Remus, and a note scribbled with Ree’s messy handwriting. </p><p>It doesn’t take a genius to know that Remus is gone, taking Virgil’s aching heart with them. The paper slightly crumples in his hand as he mentally prepares himself to read it.</p><p>
  <em> Thanks for the fantastic night by the way. Did I ever tell you how good of a kisser you are? Don’t worry, I won’t tell ;). This might be hard but, if they ask, you’ve never met me in your life. None of this ever happened. Deny everything. Get rid of anything that might lead them to me or incriminate you. Burn down this note, too. If you see me on the streets, pretend like you don’t know me, okay? Maybe one day we’ll meet again, and we won’t have to hide. For now, I’m just a stranger with a criminal record and you’re just a tired paramedic.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I’m sorry, Virgil. I love you. - Ree &lt;3 </em>
</p><p>For the first time in so long, Virgil lets the tears fall as he reads the letter over and over. He holds it close to his chest as he sobs into the deafening nothingness of their-- <em> his </em> room. But he does what Ree says and burns it, branding their words into Virgil’s mind and locking it in his heart. </p><p>Once again, Remus and everything that happened behind his locked door turns into nothing more than a memory.</p><p>~~~</p><p>“Virgil Sanders?”</p><p>“Officers.”</p><p>“The assault victim claims that he saw the suspect run off with someone during the night of the murder. He gave us a description, and this is what the sketch artist came up with.” The same burnt-faced officer hands over an imperfect sketch of him.</p><p>In his mind, Virgil corrects murder with homicide, self-defense, the memory still achingly fresh in his mind.</p><p>“Is this you?”</p><p>
  <em> Deny everything. </em>
</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“So you deny that you were ever with the suspect?” The officer fishes out a paper with Remus’s picture on it and Virgil tries his best to hide away any hint of painful recognition. “You’ve never seen this man in your life?”</p><p>“...”</p><p>“Never.”</p><p>
  <b>~~~~~</b>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>How are you all doing? Every little support and kudos is eternally appreciated. Pay me a visit on Tumblr <a href="https://nerdy-emo-royal-dad.tumblr.com">@nerdy-emo-royal-dad</a>! Stay safe and hydrated!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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